Greeks, Gladiators, Gore
by Ze Piglet
Summary: Enslaved at the age of fifteen, Perseus Jackson must fight his way to freedom in the Colosseum. With the help of his friends, he must lead a revolution against the foolish Roman Empire. There are many dangers that he encounters along the way, though. Will he survive? If not, certain death awaits young Perseus. Rated T for violent content.
1. Chapter 1

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Slavery and Mystery

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians, alas. I only own my OCs. You have no reason to sue me.**

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_Roman soldiers torched Percy's home. Crops, tools and wood were set alight. Children fled from the horrific sight as their parents were either killed or captured. As a loyal fifteen-year-old would do, Percy tried to fend the attackers off. His hands were bound and Percy, along with his mother, was dragged off to an iron cage. Screams of outrage exited his girlfriend's mouth. Percy mouthed, "Save yourself," to her. The refugees gave up hope and fled. More children were beaten and gagged. More parents were cut down. More chaos entered the scene every second..._

. . .

Sweat dripped from Perseus Jackson's brow. Finally, the nightmare had ended, though alas, his sightings were real. Two years ago, all of those events happened, much to Percy's dismay. Now, at seventeen years of age, Percy was to fight in the Colosseum every afternoon, purely for the entertainment of others.

Percy rose from his bed of hay and staggered over to the water bucket. Eagerly, he dipped his cupped hands into it and splashed his tanned face with the contents of the bucket, smiling as he did so. Water always seemed to rejuvenate Percy.

Extra sleep was impossible for Percy to gain, so he decided to do some early-morning training. He glanced at his comrades before leaving his open cell, hoping that their deep sleeps would not come to a sudden halt. Training at such an early hour was prohibited unless someone of a higher rank gave you permission to do so. _Why not? They've already punished me enough. I'm gonna die some day, _Percy thought as he crept away from the other slaves and out onto the training grounds.

When he arrived at the concrete court, Percy looked around once more to reassure his loneliness. The grounds appeared to be clear. Percy picked up a sword and began to hack away at a dummy; practising the skill he was taught – killing.

Time passed and Percy began to tire. After three consecutive hours of mutilating scarecrows, any human would feel weak. Blades were not easy to lift. Percy dropped his sword and collapsed against the arena's wall, mopping his brow with his shirt. His sword made a loud _CLANG _as it hit the cement floor.

_Damn._

Percy began to curse in a language that the Romans had forbidden – Ancient Greek. Those who spoke the language were condemned to death. Only those who were Greek knew how to speak it.

Although it was advised for him not to, Percy could not help but remember the precious moments of his past life; the village he and his friends lived in, the face of his beautiful mother, the thought of returning home to a warm meal and comfort. All of those things were long gone, but Percy treasured them more than anything else.

Footsteps thudded along the training arena and a bulky figure came into clear view. Standing in front of Percy was a man dressed in a simple tunic, clutching a _very _sharp sword. "What language was that, Jackson? Oh, wait, I know. You miss your old home, Graecus?" Marcus snarled at the exhausted boy.

"Well, Marcus, you could be wrong. After all, you can't even understand Latin," Percy retorted and got to his feet. Marcus had the potential to be a gladiator. In fact, Marcus had every gladiatorial aspect radiating from him: he was arrogant, strong, violent, merciless and good with a sword. Naturally, when they first met, Percy instantly disliked him.

"Whatever. You and me are gonna fight. Right here, right now. To the death," Marcus demanded with his glowering face turned in Percy's direction. And Percy knew why Marcus was angry at him. Last month, the spear that Percy was training with impaled Marcus' arm. It cured quickly, but Marcus yearned for revenge.

"Fine, we'll fight. This is a foolish move, though, and you'll be dead. I have no intention of dying today," Percy rolled his eyes at his opponent's lack of wisdom. With that, the two rivals began to circle each other, both yielding razor-sharp swords.

However, Percy was the foolish one. Any man, gladiator or not, would be tired after three hours of training. Was a fight really the best thing to participate in at that moment?

Marcus bellowed in rage and lunged at Percy's stomach, but Percy dodged with ease, and countered with a slice at Marcus' sword arm. No damage was inflicted. A painful punch was aimed at Percy's gut, and when the fist of Marcus made contact with him, Percy cried out in agony. The hilt of Marcus' sword came crashing down on Percy's shoulder. Death was seemingly near.

"Because I'm nice, Graecus, I'm gonna give you two more minutes to live. Actually, make that one," Marcus spat while pinning Percy down with his foot. _You? Nice? That's definitely not true, _Percy thought, but he didn't dare to tell Marcus.

Percy began to feel dizzy, and groaned in pain as he let his head smash against the ground. He thought he saw a cloaked girl on the arena's roof, but quickly dismissed the idea – must have been a hallucination. But was it?

A blonde curl escaped from a black cloak, flailing in the faint wind. Delicate fingers curled around a sheathed weapon, which the mysterious person quickly drew. Presumably, the figure was a girl. As she neared the edge of the rooftop, Percy examined her more with slightly more ease. Her blonde curls were tied in a loose pony-tail and her grey eyes fixed on Marcus.

_Blonde, curly hair. Calculating grey eyes. I know her..._

Percy's trail of thought diverted to another memory – his girlfriend. She managed to escape the ambush on the village, as far as Percy could remember.

"Alas, your minute is up, Jackson. Night," Marcus chuckled as his sword pressed against Percy's chest.

Suddenly, a strangled gasp came from Marcus. A Celestial Bronze knife pierced Marcus' back, blood seeping from the fatal wound. He dropped to the ground, dead.

The blonde was an assassin, from the look of things. She leapt down from the roof elegantly and stared at Percy.

Percy stared at the teenager who murdered his enemy. She looked exactly the same as Annabeth Chase – his girlfriend. "Seaweed Brain..? Is that you..?" she stammered, her eyes filling up with tears. Percy sprinted up to her and pulled her into a close embrace, which she gratefully returned. That girl was _surely _Annabeth.

"I'm here, Wise Girl. Gods, I missed you..." Percy's crackling voice faltered as he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He was standing in the middle of a training arena, kissing his beautiful girlfriend. Nothing else in the world mattered but the taste of her sweet lips. They remained like that for a few minutes before reluctantly breaking apart for air.

"Percy, I'm so sorry. I should have never left you... I love you, Seaweed Brain. I-I-I-I thought y-y-you w-were d-d-dead," Annabeth let tears run down her crestfallen face.

"Shh, Wise Girl... I'll always be here, Annabeth," Percy whispered and planted a soft kiss onto her forehead. They stood there, holding each other, and just enjoyed the bliss while they could. Surviving two years without any comfort was virtually impossible, after all.

Just then, a venomous voice sounded from behind, "Well, well, well. Perseus Jackson, didn't I advise you to forget your past life? You never told me about a special girl, did you? Well, killing her isn't an option. She seems fit enough to fight in the arena. Hmm, I like that idea. A female fighting in the Colosseum will surprise the crowd. Yes, that's perfect! Welcome to the crew, girl. Train well, and you won't die. Oh, and Perseus? Do explain why you're out here."

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**What do you think? Is it good? I will keep uploading chapters to my other story, but I just can't let my other ideas slip by. Currently, I am reading **_**Gladiator: Fight for Freedom**_**, which inspired me to write this fan-fiction!**

**Anyways, some reviews would be appreciated! Ze Piglet shall always be with you!**

**Love ZPBM.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Recruits and Fruits

**Disclaimer: I do not own PJO. It's as simple as that.**

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"Lu- Master," Percy corrected himself, "Surely the spectators will be appalled by that? Isn't it considered un-lady-like, master?" confronting Emperor Kronos was a task near impossible, though Percy was determined to get Annabeth as far away from the situation as he could. The results went as expected.

"Perseus, you have no say in this. Now, an explanation of your presence in the grounds at this hour," Kronos demanded, glaring at Percy.

"Well, master, I could not sleep, and the next event is tomorrow, so I decided to get in some practice. Coincidentally, Marcus and Annabeth showed up," Percy vaguely summarised. Marcus' name was a surprise to the topic.

"Hmm, I see. I suppose that summary was valid. And why is Marcus sprawled out and dead, Perseus?" Kronos asked with false interest.

"Uh, master, I–,"

"I killed him, Emperor Kronos. He was poised to murder Perseus, so I intervened. My shot was not intended to be fatal, though..." Annabeth apologised, keeping her eyes fixed away from the angry emperor. Her sincerity earned her a powerful slap on the cheek. She gritted her teeth as her cheek throbbed violently.

"Listen, _girl_. You call me 'Master' from now on. Is that understood?" Kronos spat at Annabeth, who nodded while Percy wrapped a protective arm around her.

"Yes, master. Did you know it was rude to hit girls?" Annabeth muttered as she clutched her red cheek.

"How dare you... You filthy rag from the slums of Athens..." Kronos edged forward, ready to strike again, when Percy yelled, "ENOUGH! You've hurt her already! Do you know when to stop?" That shut Kronos up. It killed Percy to see Annabeth in pain, and there was no way that Kronos was going to be the cause of it.

"Perseus Jackson, you are _extremely _lucky that I have not ordered your execution. Escort the fool to the empty cell next to your own. She will not be beaten, purely because she is our newest recruit. Next time, she will face more than a mere slap," Kronos threatened, and with that he walked away.

"Nice bunch, eh?" Annabeth sarcastically smiled.

"We both know how the Romans are. Emperor Kronos doesn't usually visit. When a slave gets into trouble, we usually get punished by Luke Castellan. He trains us. Sometimes he's nice, other times he isn't. You get used to him," Percy gently squeezed her torso to reassure Annabeth. Was Kronos going to hurt his Wise Girl? Well, the answer was: _Absolutely not._

. . .

When the other slaves woke, they stared in disbelief at the occupant of Percy's neighbouring cell. There were a few murmurs, like, "A girl? That's a little harsh..." but nothing further than that. Some of the men just stared at Annabeth, but she gave them her signature 'Death Glare', and the inquisitive males soon became interested in their worn sandals.

Hunks of bread were tossed into each cell – the quantities depending on the amount of cell occupants – and the slaves began to dine upon the stale grain. Percy was not punished for his defiance the night before, so he was able to eat his fill before training. He gave Annabeth an apologetic smile as she forced her bread down.

Soon after everyone had eaten, a gong sounded from the training grounds. Instantly, a soldier unlocked the cell doors and the inhabitants filed out of the dungeons for morning muster. Percy walked side-by-side next to Annabeth, who tried not to get trampled by the other slaves.

When the couple reached the courtyard, they stood at the end of the long line of slaves. A sandy-haired man with blue eyes bellowed, "SILENCE!" Everyone stood up straight and looked at the officer. "Now, today we were to compete in an event in the Colosseum. Unfortunately, that has been revoked, due to a last-minute recruiting. Julius, bring me the fruits," Luke Castellan ordered, and a scrawny man dutifully saluted and ran to get some fruit. Seconds later, he returned with a large sack full of ripe, delicious fruits.

Every slave apart from Percy and Annabeth received three, yet nobody dared to eat them. Even though Percy wasn't the smartest person in Italy, he knew what was coming; a good old fruit-pelt, where he and his girlfriend were the victims. "Slaves, on the count of three, you will pelt the food in your hands at Perseus Jackson and, well, my dear, I have no knowledge of your name," Luke informed.

"Annabeth Chase, master," Annabeth replied.

"Ah, yes. That is an unforgettable name. Well, 3!" The slaves took aim.

"2!" They drew their arms back.

"AND FIRE!" Peaches, grapes and other delicacies hurled in Percy's direction. He closed his eyes and waited for the force of the fruits to reach him, but he felt nothing. Both he and Annabeth's clothes were perfectly clean, and splattered fruits lay behind them.

Luke shook his head in disgust at the slaves' failure. "What was that? WHAT WAS THAT?" he bellowed in rage. "Whatever. Go back to the dungeons to fetch your armour and weapons. No deaths will be tolerated," Luke eyed Annabeth.

Back in the dungeons, every slave made way for Annabeth, letting her choose her weapon first. She simply shook her head and gestured for them to fetch their lethal tools of choice. When Percy stepped up to the crowded table, he grabbed his trusty sword, Anaklusmos, and a dagger – Annabeth's favourite weapon. He handed it to her, and she grinned, intelligence gleaming in her electrifying eyes. Once the weapons were selected, all of the slaves headed back to the training grounds to, well, train.

. . .

Percy ducked to the left as a large mace zoomed past where he was previously standing. The torn face of his opponent grunted in annoyance and struck once more. Again, Percy remained clean of any wounds. Anaklusmos sliced the man's sword arm, causing him to drop his mace. Victory was Percy's.

Triumphant, the teenager looked around for Annabeth. Percy saw her battling two angry slaves, who, by the look of things, we losing the match. Annabeth slammed the hilt of her dagger into one of the boys' helmet and let go of it. In awe, Percy watched as the bronze knife ricocheted off of the helmet and pierced Annabeth's other opponent's armour. _Damn, _he thought. _Annabeth can _fight_._

Hours passed and the slaves grew weak, therefore retiring to their cells. Salted chunks of meat and stale bread were passed around, and brief chatter commenced. Most of the conversation topics were Annabeth's performance in training, which was no surprise. That was one of the many reasons why Percy loved Annabeth. She was the perfect warrior.

Eventually, all of the slaves had drifted off to sleep – all but two. You can guess who those two were. Percy and Annabeth could not help but listen to the riveting argument outside.

"Three of them? Are they plotting against me?" Kronos' voice boomed.

"My Lord, almost every Graecus alive is deceased. A revolution would require a sizeable army, would it not?" Luke stated.

"I suppose you are correct. Di Angelo, you're sharing a cell with a dark-haired, sea-green-eyed boy. Understand?"

Into Percy's cell staggered a deathly pale boy with dark hair and eyes. Into the cell of Perseus Jackson entered Nico Di Angelo, a good friend of Percy and Annabeth. The couple stared in disbelief at the boy, who simply asked, "Perce, what in the name of Hades is Annabeth doing in this facility?"

. . .

Shockingly, the gladiatorial event was held the day after the cancelling was announced. Slaves hurried around the dungeons, grabbing weapons and crude leather armour, struggling to tie the straps. Annabeth got to the table early and got a dagger, Anaklusmos and a black iron sword, along with three breastplates. She handed them to her trusted friends, who thanked her.

Percy glanced around the dungeon. His last minutes could be spent in the Colosseum, where the blazing sun scorched the necks of the slaves.

Shortly after the chaos died down, the slaves were summoned in the arena. They lined up as the crowd roared with anticipation. Emperor Kronos, who was perched on a balcony above, held out his hand to signal silence. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologise for the reschedule of events. Two new recruits joined, one of which is a young lady. Anyways, BRING OUT THE GLADIATORS!" Kronos yelled, evilly laughing afterwards.

Fourteen burly, scarred and vicious figures emerged from behind an iron gate, their hands clasped around jeopardizing items. The slaves were outnumbered two to one. They sniggered and pointed at Annabeth, who simply smiled sweetly back at them. _Oh, they'll regret that later..._

Fighting broke out in the spacious venue that hosted the magnificent blood-path. Nico sprinted west and began to duel a tanned gladiator, while Annabeth fended off three others. Percy knew it was time to perform the skill he was taught two years ago – killing.

Anaklusmos impaled the nearest gladiator, who dropped dead to the sandy floor. Currently two slaves and one gladiator had died. Make that three: Annabeth slit one of her opponent's throats. Blood spilled from the deep cut and stained the Colosseum's floor.

Just as one gladiator had died, four more prepared to kill Annabeth. Percy screamed a battle cry and darted towards the major battle, cutting down all of the gladiators in his path. Another man received the point of Annabeth's dagger. Two more slaves fell into an eternal sleep.

When Nico had disposed of his enemy, he joined the couple in slaughtering the five remaining gladiators.

_WHOOSH! _Percy's sword whistled in the wind and mutilated one of the trained warriors.

_CLANG! _Nico's weapon collided with the strong armour of another gladiator, knocking him out. A deadly aura radiated from Nico as he finished the job.

_SPLASH! _Blood poured out of the stomach that Annabeth had pierced.

Bloodshed, pain and misery were all that mattered to the gladiators. And in time, that's what every single gladiator had received, along with death.

"BY THE GODS, THAT WAS A BATTLE! THOSE THREE ARE REMARKABLE WARRIORS! DID YOU ENJOY THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN?" more screams of excitement echoed throughout the Colosseum's walls. Emperor Kronos sat in his throne, stroking his beard and plotted the deaths of the three victorious slaves.

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**He he... Blood...**

**So, that was the goriest chapter I have ever written in my life!**

**Reviews will be appreciated, and I would like to thank those who have reviewed my previous chapter!**

**Love ZPBM.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Disappointment

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. The evil genius known as Rick Riordan does.**

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Footsteps thudded along the Emperor's balcony that overviewed the arena, where mutilated slaves and gladiators lay motionless on the crimson-stained sand. Spectators talked amongst themselves, glancing at the empty throne where Kronos previously lounged upon. Emperor Kronos ignored the din surrounding him and continued to march towards the dungeons.

Kronos saw the trio of survivors jog to the dungeon gate, and instantly, he thought, _I am going to strangle Perseus Jackson with my bare hands._ Unlike most, Kronos knew of the slaves' nationality and the importance of Percy's life. Perseus Jackson was valuable yet far from vulnerable.

As Percy, Annabeth and Nico returned to the dungeons, Kronos attempted to think of an excuse for their punishments. They were Greek, but they had received the same treatment as the rest of their kind. Many fine gladiators had been slaughtered at their hands, though the Colosseum was a place for murderous games. No disrespectful words that were aimed at Romans had exited their dry lips – _Wait, that's it! Not one of them chanted, "We who are about to die salute you!"_

It was a genius excuse; logical and understandable. He grinned to himself and bounded for the gates, receiving anxious looks from the entertained crowd.

. . .

Meanwhile, the roars of the excited spectators echoed throughout the dank dungeons. Percy wondered why people were so keen to witness death – seriously, there was nothing satisfying about blood guts and gore. Surely the crowd's deranged minds would change if they were fighting for their lives in an inescapable arena, but they all lived exotic lives; comfortable beds, flavoursome delicacies and an unfortunate slave to wait upon them. Misery was neither in their interests nor a common thing for them to face.

Awaiting the victorious trio was none other than Luke Castellan, who smiled at the Greeks and faintly applauded them. "I've never been one to believe in miracles, though one would naturally be surprised if three slaves – two of them new to the Gladiator School – returned to their master alive and clean of wounds. Of course, I had faith in you three, but this...is unexplainable..." Luke stammered, half-confident.

Before Percy could thank his master for his kind words, a tall man wearing a golden laurel marched into the dungeons furiously. Instinctively, everybody bowed down before Emperor Kronos.

"You three dare dishonour our gladiators? What makes you think that I will tolerate such a sin?" Kronos bellowed, causing the entire dungeon to shake; the dungeons must have been trembling as much as Annabeth and Nico. Percy was completely bewildered, however. Which of their actions were dishonourable? Cutting down their enemies?

"My lord, what did we do? I certainly do not remember dishonouring you or the gladiators..." Percy's voice faltered as he realised he spoke out of turn.

"Young Perseus, actually, this situation is more about what you three did _not _do," the Emperor maliciously grinned and Annabeth suddenly paled. It killed Percy to see Annabeth with such a frightened expression... "Ah, young lady, you have come to a realisation, haven't you?" Kronos stepped towards her, his voice low yet far from calm. Annabeth simply nodded, colour still draining from her beautiful face until her skin matched her ashen eyes. "Do tell your comrades what you failed to do, girl."

"We did not chant 'we who are about to die salute you', my lord."

Kronos continued to edge forward, raising his hand to strike. "And why is that, Annabeth?"

"Err, we may, uh, have," – Annabeth was rudely interrupted by the enraged emperor. Kronos briefly chuckled at Annabeth's pathetic attempt to create an excuse.

"My dear, we both know that there is no excuse for lacking honour," despite his relaxed words, Kronos' clenched fist collided with the terrified girl's neck. Annabeth cried out in agony as she doubled over, tears streaming down her pale face. No, Percy was _not _going to endure the horrific sight of his love in such pain.

Young Perseus charged at Kronos, who felt hot leather crash into his jaw. "You fool..." Kronos hissed as he spat out a mouthful of blood. A confused Nico walked over to Annabeth and heaved her up while Percy suffered from a grievous beating.

With Annabeth too weak for words and Nico too dumbfounded to talk, it was none other than Luke Castellan who spoke up, "My lord, Perseus has a young mind, as all boys of his age do. He couldn't stand the sight of his lover taking the punch. Release him; after all, the challenge lies in the arena tomorrow."

Reluctantly, Kronos let the bloody Greek slave dropped to the ground and splutter on the dungeon floor. "Castellan, you're right. The boy just needs to know of his place. Escort them to their cells."

. . .

Meanwhile, the slaves behind bars muttered anxious words to each other. What caused the crowd to be so excited?

One of them whispered, "I bet that girl is dead," in a melancholy tone.

Another replied, "No, Emperor Kronos wouldn't allow it."

A younger slave asked, "Do you think the rest are dead?" in a hushed voice.

All of their enquiries were answered as two limp figures and Nico returned to their cells. Luke responded to the unspoken yet obvious question, "No, this didn't happen in the arena. None of them came out of there wounded. Let's just say that Perseus and Annabeth got on Emperor Kronos' bad side."

Doors unlocked and the slaves surrounded the trio. Some tried to touch Annabeth to see if she was not a ghostly illusion, but Percy was conscious enough to raise his fist at them. Instinctively, the curious slaves backed away from them.

The victorious trio walked into their cells and fell asleep, and silence resumed.

. . .

"_What if the Romans find us? Would the Emperor have mercy?" a frustrated boy with blonde hair and electrifying eyes enquired. He was seated at a crudely fashioned wooden table with an elf-like-mischievous-looking-Latino-kid and a beautiful girl with choppy hair and eyes that appeared to be kaleidoscopes._

_Latino kid laughed, "Of course he will, Jason. He'll just dismiss the idea of runaway slaves whenever he looks at us and invite us over for dinner," he sarcastically replied. That earned him an elbow in the rib from the girl._

"_Leo, this is serious. I know we're pretty new to the refugee camp, but these guys have been surviving here for _two years_. If anything goes wrong, they should know what to do. And, no Jason, the Emperor wouldn't be merciful. He would completely eradicate the camp and those within it," the violent but pretty girl smiled apologetically at the so-called 'Jason'._

"_Piper, you have spent way too much time with Annabeth to know that word..." Jason's voice faltered as he remembered the girl who would do anything to rescue Percy Jackson – a boy who neither Piper, Leo nor Jason had ever met._

_The three teenagers sat in an awkward silence. Out of the blue, the door of the hut that they were staying in swung open and slammed shut. Two uninvited visitors leaned over the table and unravelled a scroll. "Do you have any idea what this says? No, you don't, because you never READ IT," the taller of the two intruding girls snapped. She had jagged black hair and eyes that matched Jason's perfectly._

"_Sorry, Thals. We were too busy worrying about our deaths. This scroll must be much more important than our well-beings," Jason retorted. The other girl stabbed her spear's end into the table, causing Leo to shriek._

"_Thalia, how do you put up with this guy? I mean, he _is _your brother, but his sarcasm is oh-so annoying," the angrier of the two intruders asked the tall girl. Strawberry blonde waves of hair cascaded down her arched back. Her intense brown eyes peered into Thalia's._

"_Natasha, Thalia, can we just calm down a little bit? How about this: you inform us of the contents of the scroll rather than murder Jason. Does that sound better than cleaning up each other's blood?" Piper anxiously persuaded Thalia and Natasha, who reluctantly obliged._

"_Well, this scroll contains valuable information regards to Percy's disappearance. He's been stuck in a gladiator school for the past two years, and Annabeth, along with Nico, were recently recruited there. So, we all know what this means, don't we?" Thalia spoke calmly, yet her eyes displayed the fear she held deep under her tough skin. _

"_Wait, hold up... Are we going to bust out Nico, Annabeth and her boyfriend? Can I at least make a couple more weapons before-hand? Natasha sort of ruined the spear I made for her _last week_," Leo squeaked, stripping him of any dignity that he used to have. Natasha glared at Leo, who... Was he whimpering?_

"_No, Valdez, we're gonna nicely ask the guards if we can kidnap them and take them off to a secret location. What do you thing we're supposed to do? Percy is our only hope when it comes to rebellion, Annabeth's the only smart one out of all of the refugees and Nico can scare just about anyone with his looks. Are you guys in or not?" Natasha rolled her eyes at Leo's Leo-ness. Everyone nodded in agreement._

"_Now, to formulate a plan. It won't be a good plan – we need Annabeth for one of those – and it could get us killed, but we _need _those three."_

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**I'm back! After a month or so, I have finally published this chapter (I sincerely apologise for not updating sooner)! I ended up re-writing the whole thing after a while... Anyways, I owe you a few explanations.**

**Firstly, the major updating delay was caused by my other writing tasks, homework and tiredness. Secondly, I have included my OC, Natasha Daley, in this chapter, because I discontinued my other story; over all, Revenge Isn't So Sweet wasn't as **_**sweet **_**as I hoped it would have been *I applaud myself for my extremely bad punch line*. I did promise a re-appearance of Natasha, though, so here she is!**

**By the way, I did try to incorporate some aspects of The Lost Hero in this chapter. While writing this, I just thought, "Wait a second... How did I not think of this before? This is pretty similar to TLH. Maybe, just maybe, this story makes sense! Nice one, Piglet!" Extra disclaimer: I DID NOT WRITE THE LOST HERO.**

**Sorry for the long wait, and I will try to include other characters as the series progresses. If you really want a certain character to come into the story, post it in a review or PM my account.**

**Ze Piglet. :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

A Mission

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan, and therefore I do not own anything he created.**

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Crimson stained grains of an opaque salt tumbled; tumbled along the concrete floor, its pungent, sickly essence lingering in the frosty air. All was cast into the night's shadows, yet the deep red colour of the sand stood out crystal-clear. What stained the Colosseum's sand was nothing other than man's blood, shed along with tears of grief. Three thousand grains of what comes from beautiful, serene coasts scraped along the dungeon floor, whispering, "We bear their blood..." Oceans of gloom danced around the dank block of iron bars, sweeping up the blood-coated sand, which carried the burden of haunting the young gladiators who were to either perish or slaughter.

In the cell next to Percy's, Annabeth peacefully inhaled and exhaled, but her constant trembling ruined her calm sleep. Percy reached out and clasped her hand in between his own, and her fear was instantly swept away from her. A slight smile crept onto Percy's tanned face; _Annabeth looks so beautiful when she sleeps, _Percy thought.

"She's lucky, you know," Nico turned to face the couple; however he still looked at his feet as he spoke, "Look, Perce, I know you've been here _way_ longer than us, but I also know that Kronos has a few hidden forms of torture. Trust me. If Kronos was in a _bad _mood, Annabeth would be facing hell right now."

That last sentence was enough to wake Annabeth up.

"I suppose that makes sense. He managed to successfully find a way to punish us, so he would have been feeling smug," she muttered, running her hands over the sand. "Kronos can do anything he wants. He rules Rome, for the sake of the gods. If he wanted any of us dead, we wouldn't be living right now..."

. . .

"What if they're dead? What if we're just endangering us Greeks for nothing?" Jason hissed at his companions. Five pairs of determined eyes darted around, scouting the wasteland around them for any signs of the enemy. Roman legions were strong, disciplined and somewhat unfair according to his older sibling, Thalia.

"They're not dead," Natasha and Thalia sternly replied without hesitance, their faces bearing grim expressions. Those two had reasonably close relationships with Percy, Annabeth and Nico, and therefore refused to admit the possible but grave truth. Jason decided not to counter their response.

Rome was a few hundred miles north of the refugee camp. For the past twelve hours (give or take a couple) Jason, Piper, Leo, Natasha and Thalia had been trekking through livid blizzards of grass. No buildings of gilded stone were in sight; only a few jagged rocks, none of which forming any architectural masterpiece. To the five's dismay, nothing edible was visible, either. Back at the refugee camp, food was scarce, so the Greeks were familiar to the concept of famine. Jason hadn't eaten in _days_.

"Hold up, guys," Leo said. "What amphitheater are we even breaking into?" All heads turned to Thalia, who knew more about Rome than just about any Greek – with the exception of Annabeth and her siblings. She shrugged, "The Colosseum is the most popular amphitheater in Rome, no doubts there. Only highly trained gladiators fight there. Percy's been enslaved for two years or so, and that's more than enough time for training to become a gladiator. The three of 'em must be there, I guess."

"What does it look like, sis?" Jason enquired.

"Are you serious, Jason? Let me repeat myself: it is the _most popular_ amphitheater in Rome," Thalia explained, leaving Jason even more confused. He was completely oblivious to Thalia's simplest of deductions. "So it's big, right?" Jason asked, earning him a hard slap on the cheek from his sweet sister. "Ouch, Thals..."

"You're lucky you're my brother. I'd give you a much harder slap if you weren't. Let me demonstrate on Leo," Thalia manically grinned as her flat hand collided with Leo's cheek at a remarkable speed. A scarlet hand-shaped mark remained on Leo's face. Rather than crying out in pain, Leo squeaked like a mouse. Piper stifled a giggle.

"Stay. FOCUSED," Natasha spat at the immature quartet, who all responded with a sarcastic 'Yes, ma'am'. Although all was shaded by the vast night sky, nothing was to prevent loud noises from disturbing Rome's guards.

The five fugitives continued to stagger through the fields, when they eventually came across a rather large amphitheater. Intrigued, Jason edged forward, despite his comrade's orders to stay low and put. Jason gazed at the Colosseum in awe, studying its delicate carvings and large arch-shaped windows. No wealthy spectators were in sight, but there were (obviously) guards flanking the entrance to the marvellous building.

"Jason, come back. Right now. We could be discovered any second, and I am _not _gonna live life as a slave."

"Coming, Pipes. It's just... Wow..." Jason's voice faltered as his vision was, once more, captivated by the apparent beauty of the Colosseum. _Right, Jason, get your priorities straight, _Jason mentally chided himself. _People are forced to fight to the death here. No matter how awesome the amphitheater looks, its purpose is disgusting._

"Okay, guys, we need to make camp. Leo, you make the tents and tend to a campfire. Piper, fashion all of us some Roman-ish clothing, because we're going undercover. Nat, you and Jason keep lookout," Thalia ordered in a hushed tone. Immediately, Natasha, Piper and Jason set off to fulfil our duties. Leo, on the other hand, stayed to annoy Thalia. "Yes, my lady, I shall bow down before you and grant your every wish. You just sit there; laze about, while we do all the gruelling work. Sound good?" Leo said with a mischievous smirk plastered on his already-red face. Thalia – well, you guessed it – reddened the other side of Leo's face.

Thalia rolled her eyes and smirked, "Eh, I _am_ gonna do something useful. I'm gonna slap you every time you get on our nerves. I'll also formulate a decent plan to infiltrate the place where Percy, Annabeth and Nico are being enslaved."

"I thought you already had a plan."

"Well, it wasn't exactly, ah, complete," Thalia explained.

"And you're leading this little, err, quest?" Jason asked, hoping that his sister would be merciful and not murder him on the spot. Thalia smirked once more as she nodded her head. _Great. Just great, _Jason thought.

. . .

Morning had arrived, and the slave-keeper thundered into the dungeons to unlock the cell doors. Once all of the cells were open, the slaves within began to march single-file towards the kitchen, where they would each be served a minute part of a stale loaf of bread, along with a wooden cup of mulled wine. However, the slave-keeper disapproved of their actions and chuckled. "Emperor Kronos wanted 'o speak with all o' you lot. No breakfast today, boys – and girl, of course," he said, satisfied with the slaves' disappointed groans.

Kronos stormed in seconds later, his regal purple cloak billowing behind him. The slaves respectfully bowed down before him, and Kronos ordered, "Stand." Immediately, the slaves straightened their postures and looked Emperor Kronos directly in his eyes.

"Now, you all are, presumably, wondering why I have cancelled your morning meal. Well, I have planned an _exciting_ event in the Colosseum for you to _all_ participate in. Actually, it is a collection of events. Each day this week will hold a new arena design, along with new gladiators and threats. Use everything we have taught you to survive. There can be multiple winners, as long as they are all either slaves _or_ gladiators; _no_ combinations. The first event shall commence in half an hour," Kronos informed the horror-stricken slaves. With that, Kronos left the dungeons and headed up to his balcony that overlooked the entire arena.

_Thud._

_Thud._

_Thud._

Percy's pulse rate abruptly rose, hammering; hammering against his well-muscled chest.

Naturally, Percy began to feel guilty about the Emperor's decision. _What if this is my fault? Should I have been so violent with Kronos? Yeah, I should have, actually – _nobody_ touches my Wise Girl. But I've practically made a death wish, as well as putting all of us slaves in danger... Gah, I hate those stupid Fates._

Before Percy's mental debate could continue, Nico tugged Percy to the armoury and followed the small crowd of slaves towards the table of weaponry. Annabeth jogged alongside them, struggling to keep up. She still looked pale from the blow she'd endured from Kronos. Worried, Percy gently pressed the back of his palm onto Annabeth's throbbing forehead. "Does it hurt, Annabeth?" Percy asked as he wrapped a protective arm around her. It was a rather stupid question to ask, considering how hard Kronos struck her.

"My head feels fine, Seaweed Brain. I just have a minor headache," she replied with a weak smile. Of course, Annabeth was just saying that to ease Percy's concerns. Of course, Percy's concerns increased rather than decreasing.

When the slaves arrived at the armoury, a rather peculiar set of weapons lie before their eyes: fish nets, a trident, some spiked maces and a wooden club – no swords, no daggers. After eyeing the set of weaponry suspiciously, Percy took a look at the armour. All he could see was a bunch of leather chest-pieces.

He glanced at his dear friends. Nico stared in disbelief at the eccentricities, whereas Annabeth was clearly formulating a plan (Percy knew this as sparks flew around her irises when she had a genius idea). Nico was frowning, Annabeth smiled. And Percy, after observing his options once more, figured out why.

Nothing amongst the weapons and armour was particularly heavy. Leather is reasonably light-weight. Fish nets and tridents were used to hunt in the seas. Maces aren't the heaviest of weapons, and neither are clubs.

Rome's citizens were to witness a three-way-battle; the slaves were up against not only the gladiators, but the tide.

. . .

Dawn broke and a few beams of white light gazed down upon the five Greeks' temporary camp, meandering through the treetops of the forest. Jason was the first to wake, and decided to spend his spare time hunting for edible berries or roots. His knowledge of plants wasn't the best, but he did know a few types of forest food that was anti-poisonous. In just a few minutes, Jason located a patch of edible roots that could help satisfy Piper's, Leo's, Thalia's, Natasha's and his own hunger.

The other four fugitives had woken up when Jason had returned. Jason shared the roots out between the five of them equally, and they chewed on the plants, savouring every bite. When they had finished eating, they decided to discuss their plan.

"So, Piper has the outfits completed. Jase, you and Nat fell asleep, and we're lucky to be living. All we need to do is dress up and accessorize, sneak into the Colosseum and see if Annabeth, Nico and Percy are there. This plan could end in a few ways, so we'll just have to improvise if something goes horribly wrong," Thalia explained while Jason listened attentively.

An hour later, a buzz of laughter and anticipation sounded from inside Rome's walls. Thousands of spectators walked through the Colosseum's gates. _How on Earth can those people be so fascinated by death? _

Leo and Jason examined their new Roman-ish outfits. They both wore cotton togas with leather sandals, which looked expensive, even though Piper made them out of scavenged materials. Shortly afterwards, the three girls rendezvoused with the boys at their camp. They all wore similar dresses; Thalia's was pale blue, Natasha's was deep crimson and Piper's was a light sepia colour. _She's gorgeous, _Jason thought.

"Jase, I doubt we're actually gonna carry out this plan if you're gonna keep drooling over Piper all day. Hello? Jason? Are you there, Jason?" Leo asked, waving his hand in front of Jason's face to break his trance.

"What?" Jason asked.

"We're on a mission, Jase."

"Oh, right. Got it. Let's go and watch people murder each other."

* * *

**Hello, people of the Earth! I am back after a month of not updating. You have every right to be mad at me. No amount of virtual waffles can make up for this great sin...**

**Well, there's your chapter! It took a while, as I kept re-writing parts, and stuff. But it's done now! Yeah, I'm too lazy to get this thing proof-read, so if you spot any major errors (I've noticed a few plot mishaps, which I have tried to fix, by the way) let me know.**

**I tried to make this chapter longer than most, as I truly regret not updating sooner. Next chapter will be about the first event. I'm certain of it.**

**I'd like to thank all of my amazing readers who have been really patient with waiting for this chapter to arrive! Your reviews, favourites and follows make my day. : )**

**Well, that's it for the "Author's Note" of this chapter. I will be writing some Gallagher Girls (Ally Carter owns that series) fan-fictions in the future, as I have fallen in love with those books. **

**Bye-bye for now!**

**Love, Ze Piglet.**

**Oh, yeah. I forgot to bake you waffles. JUST KIDDING; I remembered, but I wasn't bothered to bake them. No, I'm not that mean. Here are your well-deserved waffles! (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Quest Time

**Disclaimer: I own nothing Rick Riordan created. Story is officially disclaimed.**

* * *

"_Oh, right. Got it. Let's go and watch people murder each other."_

. . .

"Uh, how are we gonna get into Rome?"

"Eh, I'll think of something. I guess we'll climb," Thalia shrugged.

"Don't you think the Roman guards will consider that a little, uh, suspicious?"

"Probably," Thalia said, dismissing her friends' enquiries.

"Thalia, we girls are wearing _skirts_. Climbing is a little _indecent_, don't you think?"

Thalia eyed her crew before hissing, "Look, this isn't exactly our responsibilities. If you want to back out, fine by me. I, on the other hand, am willing to risk my life for those three. So, if you're in, _quit complaining._" With that, Piper, Leo and Jason closed their mouths.

A short cobblestone wall separated Rome from the countryside; it seemed relatively scalable, as the stones could be gripped, but not necessarily with ease. The wall was only a few meters high, but Thalia looked rather frightened of it. Desperately, she asked, "Anybody volunteering to go up first?"

Jason looked at his courageous, smart and fearless sibling. Thalia Grace was afraid of _heights_. He didn't want his sister to suffer, though it was her idea to climb over the wall into Rome.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Thalia sighed and reluctantly began to scale the wall, wincing every time she moved upwards. Eventually, she reached the top and leaped over. Thalia muttered a few unflattering words about her friends before they were able to reach the other side of the wall. _Gee, thanks, Thals,_ Jason thought as he over-heard her profane language.

As the ladies were straightening their skirts, two burly Roman men walked over to the five teenagers. The taller of the two soldiers asked, "Is there a reason for your, ah, peculiar entrance?" Jason's heart skipped a beat – he told Thalia that this would happen, and she didn't even care.

Before Jason could confess their crime, Piper smiled sweetly and said, "Oh, we sincerely apologise for this. You see, our local messenger informed us of this great series of events that commences today in the Colosseum. We wouldn't miss them for the world! Kind sirs, please answer me this: what would the fees be to have a standard seat in the Colosseum?"

Guard Number Two chuckled and exclaimed, "Why, young lady, the Emperor himself refused to press charges for spectators to visit! Follow me, you lot. I'm sure we can find you a seat!" Jason eyed the guards warily before proceeding to follow them. Gratefully, Piper and the girls thanked both of the soldiers. _Wow, Piper is good at lying..._

Once the guards had the five teenagers seated, Jason stopped worrying about his cover and started worrying about his ears – sitting amongst babbling Roman men, women and children can give one a splitting headache. Jason looked to his right, where Leo sat and asked him, "Dude, if I ripped my ears off, will I become deaf?" Leo's stupidity forced a slight chuckle out of Jason.

Piper turned to face Jason and gave him a dazzling smile. "So, isn't this exciting? Gladiators, whoop-de-doo! Who knows, maybe the slaves will win this round?" She continued to talk about the events, which seemed rather odd at first. _Oh, right. She's acting like a Roman spectator. Get your act together, Jason..._

Before Jason could respond, a deep voice sounded.

"_QUIET!"_

The din died down. Heads turned towards a tall man, who lounged in a chair overlooking the arena. He grinned like a maniac as he spoke.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I understand the excitement. Really, I do. How about we make _even more _noise for our beloved gladiators?"

More anticipated cries rose, and as if on cue, water spilled out onto the arena floor. Tall iron bars at the far side of the Colosseum disappeared into the amphitheatre's walls, and out came a grand vessel. At least ten burly, fully-armed men chanted, "_We who are about to die salute you!"_

"Now, now. I know who you're all waiting to see. Where are those slaves? Where are they?" the man on the balcony smiled at the crowd as the front of a less-impressive boat peeked out into the arena.

_This is it, _Thalia mouthed.

. . .

His ears hurt. Percy's back hurt, too, after he was literally _thrown _onto an unstable wooden ship. As Percy's torso collided with the ship's deck, he felt his spine make a rather unpleasant _crunch_ing noise. He groaned, cursed and sat up. "You've been 'ere for two years, lad. Get used to it," the slave-keeper chuckled at Percy's pain.

_Thud! _Down came Nico. He, unfortunately, landed on the deck face-first. "Gah, you'd think that they'd let you climb on yourself," Nico muttered while plucking a few splinters out of his skin. A small stream of blood ran down Nico's face.

"All right, you're next, girlie."

"Oh, joy..." Annabeth murmured.

Nico stood and watched as the slave-keeper picked up Annabeth, took her _away _from the boys and threw her onto the boat. Percy, appalled, dived to try and catch her, injuring his back further in the process. She landed a few centimetres away from Percy, much to his annoyance. Percy cursed before gently checking her head and arms for any scrapes or bruises.

"Seaweed Brain, I'm fine. Honestly."

Nico chuckled, "Perce, you worry _way _too-"

"OI, SHUT IT, YOU LOT!"

_Creak. _The gate gradually made way for the oh-so-intimidating ship, which now held ten beaten slaves, as it jerked forwards, out into the arena, and possibly out into its occupants' doom.

. . .

You'd think that one would have gotten used to the sun glaring at them after enduring over two years of it. Well, you thought incorrectly.

Perseus Jackson was sweating from angst. The sun didn't exactly help. Normally, he would have felt _cool _beads of sweat trickle down his neck, which helped reassure Percy that he was going to win the upcoming battle, just as he had done plenty of times before – the mighty star must have _really _hated Percy that day, as the sweat quickly warmed and evaporated.

Just like Percy's life would do if he didn't pay attention; it would be short, the final thing he would feel is warm blood, and his soul would evaporate into nothing.

Now, Percy usually felt more confident – more _at ease_ – when surrounded by water. He and his fellow slaves had previously trained in aquatic places, and they had learned to let Percy take charge in those places; needless to say, this made Percy feel _less _at ease.

That was training. Death isn't likely to occur during training. Death is _very_ likely indeed to occur in the Colosseum. And death would have occurred at that very moment if Annabeth hadn't deflected the trident that flew in Percy's direction.

"_We who are about to die salute you!" _the slaves simultaneously chanted. As soon as they had, nine pairs of worried eyes turned to Percy. But he was too stunned to respond; too stunned to formulate a plan; too stunned to help fend the lives of the people he either trusted or semi-trusted.

Eventually, something smart came out of Percy's mouth – something along the lines of, "Err...umm...eh...uh..._NICO, DUCK!_" Nico didn't ask why; he just hit the deck (quite literally). Percy began to wonder if the enemy ship would ever run out of tridents.

_Okay, I need to act like a leader. No turning to Annabeth for advice, sadly..._

"Right – the strongest of us will row. The more skilled fighters should take aim, and the people who have no idea what they should do are going to guard. Got it, guys?" Percy ordered, wondering if he should be the person guarding. His allies nodded and set off to work.

For a few minutes, everything was well (or as well as the situation could have been): the smallest and most frail slaves stood and watched the enemy, the more muscular heaved and hulled the ship's oars, Annabeth and Nico threw tridents at the gladiators, while Percy stood at the ship's wheel and steered. Percy could only hear the artificial waves crashing and his allies grunting as they pulled on the oars. Things _seemed_ fine.

That was until two strangled gasps sounded.

Triumphantly, a gladiator smirked as he gazed down at his two victims, who both lie motionless on the rowing bench with a trident through their stomachs.

Then things began to slide (again, literally).

. . .

_Eight slaves, ten gladiators._

Thalia, despite her anticipated-Roman-citizen façade, did not gasp or cheer when the two slaves were slaughtered. She did not cry or pray. She only felt her heart sink; felt her hope shatter.

Even though the three people she needed to survive were, in fact, surviving, those innocent slaves were Greeks, too. Just people who failed to flee in time.

However, she did cheer when her dear cousin, Nico Di Angelo, planted a spiked mace in the spine of the gladiator who killed the two rowing slaves. Immediately, she regretted her actions and swore at herself. She soon realised that she wasn't the only one cheering, though – everyone in the Colosseum (aside from her friends) seemed content when somebody died, no matter who that unfortunate person was. Blood, blood, blood.

A thought struck Thalia: _If Nico's in there, Annabeth and Percy probably will be in there, too._ Her suspicions were correct as she heard a feminine cry of agony and saw a dark haired man rush to help the girl.

Gore turned to intensity as the slave ship tilted to the left. Panic-ridden gasps replaced surprised gasps.

_Crash! _Azure waves threatened to swallow the lopsided wooden ship, crew and all.

"_Agh!" _Annabeth Chase grimaced as she attempted to remove the broken piece of timbre from her leg.

_Boom! Boom! Boom! _Thalia's pulse rate quickened as the disastrous situation consistently deteriorated.

"Thals, who, exactly, are the people we're trying to –"

Thalia resisted the urge to slap her younger sibling for his foolishness right there, right then. "Dearest brother, here are some things you need to understand. Firstly, do _not _use our real names – nationality purposes. Secondly, _are you crazy? Everyone in Rome doesn't need to know about why we're here! _And lastly, the creepily pale guy, the girl and the dark-haired leader," Thalia sort-of-sang, fearing that somebody authoritative would over-hear. Thankfully, no Roman _did _hear her.

After Jason nodded to acknowledge that he understood, Thalia resumed focusing on the games. Annabeth had managed to remove the wood from her leg, and Percy threw the blood-stained hunk of tree at the gladiators. It slit one's throat, and they crumpled, falling into the water.

As soon as Thalia could consider the match even, the slaves' ship broke and sank, dragging the rest of the oarsmen down with it. Moments later, three corpses emerged from the marine, floating in peace. That made five dead slaves.

Six of the eight remaining gladiators dived into the water and swam towards the slaves, appearing to target one person: _Annabeth_ – the injured one. Despite her leg, a calm and confident aura radiated from Annabeth. _She's got Percy with her. Those two together are practically unstoppable... They'll surely just kill all six of those thugs. Yeah, let's just hope that they'll live._

. . .

"Oh, gods..."

Percy stared at the six vicious gladiators before him. They saw an injured slave; they saw an opportunity to take her life. Why they refused to pick on someone their own size was a mystery to Percy. The gladiators had angered Percy, and he was in his home court. _Sucks to be them._

As Percy tried to salvage all the weapons he could find, he kept worrying about his girlfriend's wounded leg. They were swimming in salt water, which would have helped clean and disinfect the cut. Annabeth looked like her beautiful self, her grey eyes fixed on her prey. She reminded Percy so much of an owl; a wise, determined predator.

He saw crimson. It was blood, spilling from a heavily armed man. A trident impaled a gladiator's head. He saw more crimson – more blood. Two broken ends of a battle club tore the hearts of two bare-chested gladiators, who surely regretted not arming their torso.

Annabeth smirked – a look that only meant one thing: _Mess with me, buddy, and I'll send you straight to Tartarus. _Gods, Perseus Jackson loved that girl. He loved her even more when she asked, "Who's next?"

Percy strangled a gladiator with a nearby fishing net whilst beating another, whose fate ended up in the hands of Nico. What was hopefully the gladiators' last trident nearly skewered Percy, but Percy easily deflected it and skewered the final swimming gladiator.

He felt content. But as soon as the water drained from the arena, his satisfaction lessened. He was confused as to why the water had disappeared, but Nico reminded Percy why, "Percy, we've _won._"

Two people, who Percy had never recognised before that moment, emerged from the now-wrecked gladiator ship, lugging the dead bodies of the other two gladiators with them. Upon their identical faces a devilish grin was plastered, and Percy figured that they were brothers.

For a second, Percy thought he heard Annabeth mutter something like, "Stolls..."

"Miss us, Annabeth?" the taller of the brothers smirked as he asked this.

_The Stoll brothers from the old village were there! How had I not recognised them before?_

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but then looked up at the crowd. Her eyes widened.

"_...Thalia_?"

* * *

**Okay! Chapter finished! Celebration time!**

**By the way, I couldn't think of anything good for the chapter's title. Just to clarify that.**

**I went on holiday last week, so that delayed my new writing schedule (yeah, I now have a writing schedule! I don't like not-writing, and I need to update my stories quicker than I actually do). In Wales, there had been a hurricane the week before my family arrived there, so the miserable weather sort of rained (pun intended) on our parade. Alas, it didn't give me any story ideas, either. Stupid **_**Hurricane Bertha**_**...**

**Thank you so much for all of the lovely reviews, favourites and follows this story has received! They really, truly make my life so much better! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!**

**Well, I don't like making my **_**A/N**_**s too long, so I'll just end this one here. Have some waffles! (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#)**

**Best regards, Holly. :)**


	6. Sorry!

**Sorry!**

* * *

**I apologise for not updating this story sooner! I just haven't been inspired lately, and I need to be more creative.**

**I'll update this story in the next two weeks; I just need more inspiration and stuff. Again, so, so, soooooooo sorry!**

**(Please don't hate me! D:)**

**Waffle time:**

**(#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) **

**-Holly**


	7. Chapter 6

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Can't-Think-Of-A-Chapter-Title-Whoops-Don't-Sue-Me-I'm-Sorry

**Disclaimer: Rick owns everything recognisable. I'm just the girl with the weird fan-fiction ideas.**

* * *

"_...Thalia?"_

. . .

Kronos tried to follow Annabeth's gaze, but quickly gave up. Whatever – whoever, rather – she was looking at was hidden amongst the crowd of Roman spectators; needless to say, there were hard to locate.

. . .

Although Luke sat amongst the Roman spectators in the Colosseum, his focus was not on the gladiators. Instead, he fixed his gaze on an unusual yet vaguely familiar girl; she had choppy ebony hair – too short for a Roman lady – and a rather pale complexion that seemed to glow silver in the light. This mysterious girl muttered nervously to the person next to her, who was beautiful also.

Luke decided to forget he saw the girl, and returned his attention to the game. The slaves seemed to be the victors of the event, as they grinned triumphantly. He noticed that one of the slaves – Annabeth, most definitely – kept sneaking glances in the direction of the dark-haired girl.

That's when Luke was able to put a name on the lady: _Thalia Grace._

A Greek was in the Colosseum.

. . .

"Holy Hera."

They were the only two words Percy could muster. Percy guessed that Thalia was able to escape the village attack, but why she sat in the Colosseum was a mystery yet to be solved. He, unlike his _intelligent_ girlfriend, stared openly at Thalia; if the sight of his old friend wasn't so overwhelming, Percy would have spent a few seconds every minute covertly looking at her, like _intelligent _person would.

Whilst he was looking in Thalia's direction, Percy spotted a mop of strawberry blonde hair. "Uh, Annabeth, I think I see Natasha with Thalia," Percy whispered to Annabeth. Her eyes widened even more. After a moment passed, Percy asked in a hushed tone, "Why are they _here_, of all places?"

And that was the only question Annabeth Chase could not answer.

. . .

Luke stood and made his way to the dungeons as the spectators filed out of the amphitheatre. During his walk back to the dank building, Luke constantly debated whether to alert Kronos or not. She was Greek. _Greek. _Loathed by all. She was thought to be dead – _wanted _dead.

But then again, so was he.

Was it possible Thalia had changed her ways, too? What other reason could be behind her presence in Rome?

Vengeance, perhaps...

_Luke, she's a Greek. Aspiring Roman or not, she cannot change her mother nation. Kronos should be alerted immediately, _Luke's brainwashed side screamed.

**She hates you enough already, Castellan. Don't betray her further, **the Greek within him pleaded; all Greeks were loyal.

_Castellan is Greek. Are you not Roman, Luke? Are you a traitor to Rome?_

**You are not Roman, despite your choices. You are a traitor to Greece; that is a sin that cannot be cleansed.**

_Focus! You're about to walk into the door! Gather your Roman senses, Luke!_

Luke swore discreetly and unlocked the dungeon door with the keys Kronos trusted him with.

_See, Luke? The Romans trust you. Do not break that trust._

He grimaced as he walked through the doorway. Listening to the voice messing with his sanity, Luke nodded his head – a stiff and seemingly reluctant motion.

_Good. Now, once you've fed and locked up those slaves, inform Emperor Kronos of your discoveries._

. . .

Jason rose from his seat and followed the Romans out of the Colosseum; Piper, Leo, Natasha and lastly Thalia on his tail. Thalia lingered for a while, her eyes full of something Jason had never seen before.

Once they had escaped the vast crowd of laughing and cheering spectators, Natasha shed a tear, but kept following Jason. They aimlessly wandered for roughly half an hour, until they reached a secluded alley, where Jason said, "So, I take it they were there."

Thalia nodded, her jaw clenched. Her eyes were still full of the unknown emotion. Jason walked over to his older sibling and rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. His sister chuckled and responded, "Jase, I'm not... It's just we didn't actually achieve anything worthwhile! They were right there!"

Jason was finally able to label the tone in Thalia's voice and the gleam in her eyes: hope mixed with despair. Her words echoed in the silent alley. The only other noise that sounded in the area was stifled. After a while, the odd noise became clearer; sobs sliced through the silence.

Jason felt Thalia move away from him and towards a sobbing Natasha, who now made no effort to hide her devastation. "H-how can somebody b-b-be so c-cruel? They're o-only humans! H-h-her leg..." Natasha's voice faltered as salty tears streamed down her usually-confident face.

"Guys, it may seem pretty insensitive of me to say this right now, but we _need _to find a place to stay. Like, now. We have no denraii, so asking any innkeeper for a room is gonna result in five well-kicked backsides. Maybe there's an abandoned house we can crash in?" Leo ordered, his humorous nature quavering.

Jason nodded and followed Leo into the darkness of the alley.

. . .

"Master Kronos, I have some news for you."

"Ah, Luke, sit down." Luke sat on one of the chaises in the room. "Tell me, Luke; is this news good or bad?" Kronos asked him.

Luke tried to hide his fear as he replied, "Bad, most definitely."

Grinning, Kronos looked Luke directly in the eye as he spoke, "Well, however unfortunate the news may be, I must hear the details."

"Yes, my lord. Well, it seems a _Graecus _has infiltrated Rome."

Kronos' grin faded as he asked, "Are you certain of this person's region?"

"Positive, my lord. She's one of the refugees who escaped the village ambush of two years ago."

"I trust you know of her appearance. Enlighten me, Luke," Kronos ordered. There was that word again – _trust_.

Luke swallowed and said, "She has dark hair, too short of the normal cut. That is all I remember about her, my lord."

Kronos inclined his head and dismissed Luke with the words, "Interesting. Well, Luke, thank you for sharing this crucial information with me. I shall find everybody who meets this description, bring them here and allow you to identify the one to face execution."

Luke walked out of the room and, after making a few twists and turns, found a deserted room. He closed the door.

Then he collapsed to the floor and sobbed uncontrollably, leaving a pool of salty liquid around him, until he ran out of tears to shed.

* * *

**Hello once more! An update! It took a while, but it came!**

**I'd just like to thank everybody who reads this story for their patience and input. "Somebody" posted a rhyming review and suggested more of Luke and Kronos. Thanks for posting that, as I have never had more fun writing in somebody's POV than I have writing in Luke's.**

**I'll try to update sooner, but I have homework *groan* and other things that seem to interfere with my writing.**

**Also, this chapter is short, I know; it just didn't seem right for the chapter to be long, you know?**

**I think I've delayed this long enough – waffle time!**

**(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)(#)**

**-Holly**


	8. Chapter 7

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Candour

**Disclaimer: Am I Rick Riordan? Nope.**

* * *

_Great; another day. Another daunting task awaited them._

As usual, Perseus Jackson woke from his slumber before his comrades. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he stretched his limbs and stood up, being careful not to disturb the slaves around him. His and Nico's cell door was hanging open, so Percy decided to gaze at the night sky that swarmed Rome.

White specks of light broke through the blanket of darkness above, forming intricate, abstract patterns. The only sound Percy could hear was his own steady breathing. Bright beams radiated from a pale crescent hanging high in the dark sky, which otherwise cast a dark shadow over the city that the Greeks loathed. No Romans were in sight. It was almost as if Percy was in a different place. The city was unfamiliar. _Serene_.

Percy's thoughts drifted to those of his home. At the place Percy was born and raised in, every single night was as tranquil as this one. He remembered when he and his mother used to sit underneath the stars, counting them, one by one, until they fell asleep on the lush grass beneath them.

It was too painful to think about.

. . .

Jason was bored.

He sat on the floor with his friends and sister, listening to their suggested strategies and nodded his head politely, but their conversation went on for too long, and it wasn't exactly going anywhere. Almost every suggestion resulted in a heated argument...and an angry innkeeper barging into the room, spitting rude comments at them in Latin.

A few minutes after their last visit from the innkeeper, another fight broke out. Jason hadn't been paying attention, though he thought he heard the words 'befriend some Roman guy'. His sister let out an exasperated sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose in thought. Natasha stared at Piper in disbelief. (Jason assumed Piper had been the one to suggest being charismatic.) Then the shouting began.

Jason rolled his eyes, and before he knew it, he was standing outside with the four people who could not agree on _anything_.

Even though Thalia did a great deal of arguing, Jason couldn't help but feel sorry for his sister. She poured her every day and night into coming up with a plan to retrieve Percy, Annabeth and Nico. Sometimes, Jason wondered whether Thalia would have preferred it if she worked alone. Dealing with constant quarrel was really quite frustrating.

She finally took action. "For the love of... _Just shut the hell up! _I am _sick _of this! It would be just _wonderful _if we could agree on something, or at least _politely decide _whether an idea is crappy or ingenious! I am _sick _to _death _of this," Thalia snapped, fury dancing in her particularly electrifying eyes. After calming down, she added in a more calm tone, "Look, I'm sorry, guys. If it's too much to ask of you for you to cooperate with me here, feel free to go. It would be nice to decrease the list of slaves out there..."

Much to Jason's surprise, it was Leo who apologised first. It was serious and sincere, and not reluctant in the slightest. Mumbles of apologies left Natasha and Piper's mouths. Natasha asked, "Why isn't Jason apologising?"

And that was when Thalia became more terrifying than any soul on Heaven, Hell or Earth.

"Leave Jason _out _of this. _He, _in case you haven't already gathered, has done nothing more than nod his head at whatever the hell we were throttling each other over! My brother is the _only _rational person here! Whereas _you, Natasha_, have found keeping your bloody trap shut difficult, Jason has been more than happy to! There is nothing for Jason to apologise for! Hell, I feel sorry for _him!_ _NOW SHOW SOME DAMN RESPECT AND SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH!_"

Everything went silent. Thalia's bellows echoed around the streets.

The sound of metal broke the silence. Jason ushered everybody to a post that hid them from any passersby, but Thalia just stood still. "Thals, come _on_," Jason hissed.

But Thalia kept her feet where they were, and allowed the Romans walking towards them grab her by the arms and drag her off towards the unknown.

. . .

According to Kronos, the slaves were to spend the morning in their cells, as the event was taking place in the afternoon, which allowed Luke to sit down and think. The events of last night never left Luke's head; the guilt remained a barrier too strong to break. The voices in his head kept whispering to him, telling him that he 'acted like a true Roman' and 'betrayed his family'.

He wondered how long it would take for every Thalia-look-alike to be gathered in the courtyard. Should the real Thalia Grace be there, what will he do? Luke immediately dismissed the thought of confessing – she was the closest person Luke had to an actual family. If he lied and said that none of the women were Thalia, would he be accused of lying? **Luke, if you wish to redeem yourself the slightest, you must not be a coward. Lie about her presence, and do not fear the consequences.**

Luke spent a couple of hours contemplating his options, until a guard walked up to him and said, "Master Kronos has summoned you to the courtyard. Be there in five minutes." Concern was evident in the guard's eyes. Luke inclined his head in response before rising and walking to the courtyard, still unsure of what to do should Thalia be there.

. . .

"What do you mean, we have the morning off?" Percy asked, shocked. The slave-keeper rolled his eyes and said, "Lad, talk back to me again 'n' I'll 'ave you freshly beaten for the games this afternoon. You 'ere me, boy?" Percy muttered an apology before the slave-keeper left.

Never before had the slaves been so relaxed. They all collapsed against the cell block walls and began to talk amongst themselves for the first time in what seemed like forever. Connor Stoll picked up a random chain link from the floor and threw it to his brother, who was engaged in conversation with Nico. Travis sighed, picked up the link and placed it on a high-up shelf – was that a recent installation? Percy hadn't seen it before – and out of his now-annoyed younger sibling's reach.

Percy decided to embrace the opportunity to relax and closed his eyes; not in hope to catch up on some sleep, but to make the most out of their free...

_No. It isn't "free" time. You will never be free._

He felt a delicate hand give his own a squeeze. Percy looked over to see Annabeth looking at him, concern plastered all over her face. "You okay, Seaweed Brain?" she asked, rolling her eyes when Percy responded with a 'no'.

Annabeth said, "Let me rephrase: what's wrong, 'cause I know you're not okay." Percy chuckled, squeezed Annabeth's hand and sighed. "I'm just sick of this place, you know? I mean, no-one should have to live in a cage. Knowing that I've been treated like a wild animal for two years pisses me off. This whole place pisses me off."

Percy's rant ended when he noticed a few people were staring at him. A glare later, they were talking amongst themselves again. "I should be free," Percy muttered low enough for only Annabeth to hear. Annabeth asked, "Then why aren't you?"

After a moment's hesitation, Percy let out a low, dry laugh. "I'm Greek, aren't I?"

. . .

"You called, my Lord?"

Kronos spun on his heel. "Ah, Luke! We've found quite a few ladies matching the description you gave me. They're in the dungeons," Kronos grinned like a madman as he spoke. Luke followed him towards the dungeons, his plan formulated.

If Thalia was not in the dungeons, Luke would simply say so. However, if she was, Luke would point at a Roman lady, but have the guards free her before her execution.

When Luke and Kronos arrived at the dungeons, he was greeted by the sight of a line of women with blue eyes and relatively short black hair; only two of the ladies' appearances matched the description near-perfectly, though. They were almost identical; their hair just about reached their chins, their eyes were startling and their complexions were equally pale.

Some of the women were visibly trembling. Others were cringing at the sight of the dungeons (well, they were pretty disgusting). A few begged for Kronos to have mercy. One was doing all three. If Luke knew Thalia, he knew that she would be mimicking the actions of those around her – effectively; her delirious mother was indeed talented in the performing arts.

It didn't take long for Luke to spot the real Thalia. The scar above her jaw may have been small, but Luke could see it clearly. She did not show fear in the presence of Kronos, but she showed disgust – aimed at both Kronos and the dungeons. The disappointment that showed in her eyes when she saw Luke tore his heart; she was the closest person Luke had to family.

"Who's the Greek you described?"

"Third one left from the middle."

Thalia's closest look-a-like was dragged off towards the dungeon gate. _Wait, why isn't she staying in the dungeon? _

"Please don't…" the innocent, sobbing girl had a _gladius_ in her stomach before she could finish her plea.

. . .

_He betrayed you, Thalia. He is responsible for that girl's death. He's nothing but a ruthless traitor._

After Kronos had apologised for the "inconveniences", the seventeen living ladies were released. Thalia was surely the only Greek amongst the accused, yet Luke told Kronos otherwise. Was he trying to apologise to her?

Thalia cared none for the girl who was killed; she probably lived in one of those elaborate houses with courtyards, where she could eat at any time she wanted, and had a slave to wait on her. She was _Roman_.

As Thalia walked back to the alley she was taken from, she couldn't help but notice how…_unusual _one of the guards was; this guard was _female_, with dark skin and curly brown hair – she couldn't have been older than 13. She walked up to Thalia and whispered, "I take it you didn't need any help escaping, then."

Thalia's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

The girl explained, "Well, you match the description Luke gave us perfectly, and he said to get you out of the dungeons before your execution."

She walked off to resume her duty, leaving Thalia confused.

_Who is "us"?_

_Why is _she _guarding the place?_

_Was Luke aiming to tell Kronos that I am Greek?_

_Did he have anything against the idea of a Roman being executed?_

* * *

**Chappie complete!**

**Well, it's New Year's Eve (where I am, anyways), and it's been a while since the last time I updated. One of my resolutions is to keep a steady update schedule running. (I was going to make my resolution 'I will tidy my room', but since when did people start doing **_**that**_**?)**

**Thank you for the support I have been receiving! It really makes me happy and gives me confidence.**

**Ah, yes, I might as well explain why this chapter is slightly more profane than the others. Well, I was getting tired of substituting profanities for non-derogatory words. One can only use the phrase "ticked off" so many times. I wanted to convey anger in this chapter, so I asked my parents if I could use the 'P-word' in my writing, and they said yes. I won't be using major cuss words, but a few minor words may slip in.**

**This chapter was fun for me to write. I love writing rants.**

**Oh, in case you haven't figured it out yet, the dark-skinned girl is Hazel. When I wrote "unusual", I wasn't commenting on her race! Not many guards were female back then. I apologise if anybody found that racially offensive, and I swear on the River Styx that I was not trying to be racist.**

**I've bored you enough, haven't I? Just take some blue waffles. (#) (#) (#) (#)**

**-Holly**


	9. Chapter 8

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Ferocious

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that Rick Riordan created.**

* * *

"_Alrigh', scum, time to figh'."_

After his short-lived conversation with Annabeth, Percy decided to remain silent for the rest of the morning. He tried to distract himself from the fear coursing through his veins multiple times, yet couldn't.

Throughout their 'relaxation' time, the slaves passed unspoken messages between each other, warning each other about how the events were only going to be increasingly challenging. They bid each other good luck before rising and marching towards the weapon storage.

Unlike yesterday, the weapons room held no clues as to what would make the event 'special'. In fact, the weaponry was a mere assortment of clubs and chains. Percy walked over to the clubs and picked one up, testing its weight. It was – no surprise – completely unbalanced, and heavy. Gods, was it heavy. Although, it was undoubtedly lighter than the chains.

Joining Percy, Nico, Annabeth, Travis and Connor were new slaves, who only began training a few days before. The new slaves gawked at the weapons as if they were exotic beasts. Bless them, they had never laid eyes on clubs before, let alone trained with them.

"Come on, you lot! Today 'ould be lovely!" the slave-keeper yelled, impatience evident in his voice. The Stoll brothers, being the Stoll brothers, swung two of the chains around idly. "Seems like a decent weapon," they said in unison.

"Oh, 'urry up, you Graecus filth!"

Once again, silence.

As soon as Percy heard an eruption of cheers, he knew it was his time to fight.

. . .

Luke was personally asked to spectate the day's events by Kronos, and of course, he couldn't decline. Besides, attending was the perfect way to distract him from a certain lady with electrifying eyes; well, two, to be exact. He felt immense guilt for ordering the execution of an innocent, but he _had _to keep Thalia alive. Luke wasn't one to take chances, especially with death.

Ironically, Luke could not focus on words other than those inside his head. Not even the wild crowd of spectators could block out the constantly fighting voices in his mind.

**Luke, do not feel distressed. The girl praises your decisions.**

_Fool! You should not care for her! She is nothing but Graecus._

**Have some respect.**

_Respect you bastards? You're hilarious._

**You're right, you Romans wouldn't know respect if it stabbed you in the heart.**

_Graecus filth!_

**Roman scum!**

"Shut it. Just shut it," Luke hissed under his breath. His temples were throbbing uncontrollably. He pitied his skull – it was doing everything possible to keep the voices from escaping.

Luke blinked a few times before making a final attempt to concentrate on the arena. From the look of things, the gladiators were yet to be introduced, for their side of the arena was empty.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen, you remember these people, don't you? They fought for glory yesterday, and they'll do it again today! Bring out the slaves!" Kronos bellowed and let out a haunting chuckle. The crowd's screams of delight were loud enough to wake up the whole of Rome.

But the crowds roars died down immediately as the slaves walked into the arena; many began to gasp. After a moment's confusion, Luke looked down for an explanation.

One of the slaves had a sizeable disadvantage against whoever they were opposing; she limped into the Colosseum.

. . .

_There are no gladiators._

That was the first thought that entered Percy's head when he stepped onto the sands of the famous amphitheatre. Usually, he would mentally complain about the sun, but the lack of opponents was more surprising.

Also, there was no noise. Not one cry of excitement, not one cheer. No, all Percy could hear was gasping.

The Romans were gasping at Annabeth – she limped into the arena, yet radiated pure _confidence_.

"_We who are about to die salute you," _Percy chanted in monotone, still amazed by his girlfriend's pride. He soon snapped out of his trance and readied his club, poised to attack anything. Percy felt adrenaline flow in his bloodstream. The only thing he needed was Riptide, and then he could take on a whole army.

"Hey, Perce, where the hell are the gladiators?"

It took Percy a second to register that it was Nico asking him the question. He stared at his comrade for a moment, and was about to make a sarcastic remark before Kronos answered Nico's question. "Today, fellow Romans, our slaves will be brawling with none other than the world's finest, most ferocious beasts! Bring out the lions!"

From the corner of his eye, Percy caught a glimpse of the newer slaves trembling, their clubs wavering in their grips. It was their first fight, and they were fighting wild animals – they had every right to be afraid.

The gladiators' gate opened with a few creaks, and three bloodthirsty, prideful, underfed lions prowled out, their roars mightier than the crowd's. Percy gritted his teeth, prepared to face the creatures.

"_Commence!"_

A small battle cry left the mouth of one of the frightened slaves – a small boy, referred to by the name of Darius – as he charged towards the lions, blinded by adrenaline and not realising his foolishness.

"DARIUS!" Percy exclaimed, and Darius apparently heard him, for he stopped dead in his tracks and looked at his comrades. Just as Percy was about to order him to run, one of the lions bit off Darius's head and torso, gnawing on the flesh and spitting out any bones. The bloodied remainder of Darius collapsed to the arena floor.

Percy's vision filled with red; and, no, it wasn't the blood. For two years, he had trained to fend off an army if necessary, and yet he was intimidated by a couple of wild animals? No. He was going to smother those things in their own blood.

"PERCY, LOOK OUT!"

"Huh? Oh, -" Percy couldn't continue before a lion pounced at him. He rolled to the side and swatted the predator with his club. The crude weapon broke on impact, leaving Percy with a splintered stick. _Great._

In the blink of an eye, two long chains had been wrapped around the lion's neck, choking it and rearing it away from Percy. Travis' head poked around the corner of the lion. "Stick it in the throat with your, uh, stick!" Travis screamed, and Percy obeyed. The lion released an agonised roar before taking in its final breath.

"Got a brain up there? Or is it just full of kelp?" Connor snapped.

"Blame it on the fear," Percy replied indignantly.

After doing a quick scan for the other slaves, Percy found two more corpses of the younger slaves. That left one more youth, who was on the floor, a lion with bloodied fur on top of him. The killer bared its teeth, leaving a cracked tooth clear in Percy's view.

Percy saw Annabeth sneaking towards the lion, masked by her immaculate stealth, her club in hand. She hit the lion's paw with all of her might, yet it only seemed to aggravate it. Annoyed, the lion swatted Annabeth aside with inhumane strength.

_Clang! _A rope of metal found its way into the lion's mouth. As it jerked its head back to its pray, the chain ripped out the lion's chipped tooth, which soared backwards into Nico's hand. Nico caught it with ease. He threw it to Annabeth, who was sprawled out on the sand, shaking, trying to sit upright.

A gargantuan thud echoed throughout the arena, and heads turned to see Darius' murderer dead with its head tilted at a sharp angle. _The force of Nico's chain must have jerked that thing's head too far to the left, or something._

"Hey, kid, are you alright?" Nico asked.

"Uh, yeah. Well, sort of, anyways," the child, who was previously under the lion's grasp, panted. He looked traumatised. Hell, _Percy_ would have been traumatised if he was _that close_ to being mulled by a lion.

To the right, all Percy could hear was chaos.

"Annabeth, stay there! We'll take care of it!"

"Are you seriously getting up?"

"Now's not the time to play dumb!"

"You're bloody insane!"

Percy's heart pounded. This whole time, he _forgot _that Annabeth couldn't move. His priority was to defend her – it always had been. He _forgot_.

He looked at Annabeth, his stare screaming 'stay calm'. Oh, but she was calm. In fact, she was _grinning_. Her face showed nothing but triumph.

Time seemed to slow down as the final lion gave its battle cry, raised its head and begged for the crowd to cheer it on. Applause sounded, louder than the lion's roar itself. It poised to kill, and in a heartbeat, it…

Fell. It fell with its brother's tooth lodged in its stomach.

_Silence._

* * *

**You have full permission to be angry at me.**

**I went three months without updating this story, and I owe you one hell of an apology. I had a lot of tests, speech-writing and *sigh* homework to complete, so this delayed the update, but I was ultimately procrastinating this post. Once again, sorry.**

**I am slightly dissatisfied with this update. There are various aspects that I'm proud of, but I think I just need to get into the habit of updating regularly.**

**Also, I thank Robo for posting his review! I agree, that chapter was too fast paced, so I tried to tone the speed of this one down a bit. I know that fast paced writing is difficult to enjoy, so thanks for the constructive criticism! Thank you to all of your reviews, too! They make my day (and night) and you are all amazing!**

**Blue waffle time! (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#)(#) (#) (#) (#) (#)(#) (#) (#) (#) (#)(#) (#) (#) (#) (#)**

**-Holly**


	10. Chapter 10

**Greeks, Gladiators, Gore**

Emotions

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan, and therefore own nothing that he does.**

* * *

Kronos was, to say the least, infuriated. He wanted those three dead – he didn't care how they died, he just wanted to be rid of them. All Kronos had to do was order a guard to silence them in their sleep. Simple.

But it wasn't that easy, was it?

Perseus, Annabeth and Nico were the soul reasons behind the spectators' visits. They were surprisingly strong for three teenagers, and this drew the crowd towards the arena. Not once did they fail to impress the spectators. Rome adored them; their deaths would be riot-provoking. Kronos hated it.

Why were they so strong? Perseus' performances before his reunion with the girl and his friend were not as marvellous as they are now. Sure, he was still loved by the spectators – that hadn't changed – but the slaves' victory rates had.

Then realisation slapped Kronos in the face: Perseus was not as strong alone as he was with his companions. All of the recent brawls had been won due to the perfect combination of Perseus' strength, Annabeth's intelligence and Nico's rage. Neither of those characteristics alone can win a battle.

Why not separate the trio?

. . .

Angst; it was evident in the shack's atmosphere. Since Thalia's arrest, nobody had uttered a word. Even Leo was quiet – Leo was _never _quiet. However, unlike Jason, Piper, Natasha and Leo looked calculating. They all appeared to be deep in thought; thinking of ways to free Thalia, undoubtedly.

Jason was too astonished to function correctly. His mother had abandoned him at birth, his father was long gone, and now his sister – his only family – had been pried from his grasp. Words couldn't describe the sensation bubbling in his veins. He was enraged, mortified (who would treat an 'innocent' _lady _in such a rough manner?), lonely and grieving

He was numb.

Natasha was the first one to speak. She whispered, "Thals is coming back. I know she is – those bloody Romans are all weak. She took them all down without breaking a sweat. Hell, Thalia's gonna find us and tell us about how she wiped out those Roman -"

"She wouldn't fight them. She's smart, Natasha; any chance of survival Thalia had would've been lost if she fought them," Jason rasped. "Let's just accept that she's gone."

. . .

Thalia saw red. Red, the colour of fury, the colour of blood.

The girl's crimson blood splashed against Thalia's leg when she was stabbed, and it dried whilst trickling down her limb.

She'd been walking for a couple of hours. Occasionally, she stopped to look in an alleyway for her friends, but usually was shooed away by a stray cat. She analysed the cats' movements whenever she saw one; they fought the other prowling creatures of the night, they lunged at whatever food they could find, they listened out for any potential threats. After all, if all else failed, Thalia would have to live the life of a rogue.

Time passed at a painstakingly slow pace. Thalia didn't know where she was, or far away she was from the Colosseum.

In front of her stood a figure of stone 7 feet high. It would have been intimidating, if it weren't for its lack of stone clothing and ridiculously large nose. Thalia suppressed a giggle – the last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself. To make matters worse, she was surrounded by more statues. Each statue had its own hilarity, from gargantuan ears to over-exaggerated frowns. Thalia bit down on her right hand to prevent any laughing fits. _Hard_.

"Gah!" She hissed. Blood seeped from the bite-mark on her hand. "I'd better clean this up. I could catch something from one of those cats," Thalia murmured, wiping her hand on her leg.

Conveniently, a fountain sat in the middle of the ring of eccentric stone carvings, water trickling out from its openings and into a large basin. Thalia jogged over to the basin and placed her hand in the cool water, allowing it to numb the pain. A soft sigh escaped her cracked lips. She cupped her hands and brought some of the liquid to her mouth. It glided down her dry throat.

Thalia positioned her leg over the basin and its contents to wash off the blood, shivering as the coolness touched her skin. Once all of the girl's blood had been removed from her leg, Thalia got up from the fountain. Taking a final drink from the fountain, she walked away from her only free water source and into the unknown.

. . .

Jason had cried himself to sleep.

"_Let's just accept that she's gone."_

His own words had triggered his tears. Truthfully, Jason couldn't accept that Thalia was gone. In the months that he had known his sister, Jason had grown used to her constant yelling and electrifying aura. He loved how she could start a petty argument as easily as she could end one. He missed Thalia.

He sobbed for what seemed like an eternity, and nobody tried to stop him.

And then, darkness.

"_Okay, Jason. We managed to steal one of these things from the Roman officers that passed by yesterday. You're the only one of us without a weapon, so here you go."_

_Jason took the golden sword from Thalia, admiring its gleam. The blade was short but sharp. It felt perfectly balanced in his grip._

"_Thals, are you sure? I mean, I'm grateful, but shouldn't someone more experienced than me be using something as cool as this?" Jason asked, resulting in Thalia slapping him upside the head._

"_Jason, sometimes you just need to take a gift with a smile. Be grateful that you even have a weapon."_

"_But…"_

"_Mouth closed."_

"_Gotcha."_

"_Anyways, you'll be training to use this at dawn – every day until you can use it properly. Don't use it when Romans are nearby. Well, I suppose that goes without saying, but you can be a total idiot sometimes. This thing practically glows." Jason felt slightly offended by this, even though his sister was joking. Hopefully._

"_Thalia, do you know what the Roman who you stole the sword off of looked like?"_

_Thalia, arched an eyebrow and said, "Why'd you ask?"_

"_Uh… Genuine curiosity?"_

"_Fine. She had dark brown hair – typically Roman – tanned skin – typically Roman – and black eyes. Happy?"_

"_Yeah. Training at dawn. Got it."_

* * *

**School decided to be a huge pile of schist by attacking me with an insurmountable weapon called 'tests'. Please let this be an acceptable excuse for my absence.**

**AndImayormaynothavebeenslightlyprocrastinatingwhenitcametowritingthisupdate.**

**Anyways, here's another update for you. I'm not too satisfied with it, but I can't think of anything else to include in it. You know when you want to write something awesome but can't at that moment in time, because if you did it would seem like you've skipped part of the story, so you only write something that you give half-a-crap about instead? Yeah, that happened.**

**I was listening to an AOT soundtrack while writing this. If you haven't watched Attack on Titan, you have been living under a rock. Go watch it. Now. It's better than reading this A/N, anyways.**

**Thank you ever so much for reading this story. It means a whole lot to me. All of your reviews are so kind, too!**

** SetFireToTheRainbow**

**Blue waffles are fabulous. I am grateful that you deemed them a valid apology. You're amazing. :)**

**Waffle time, everybody. Yay waffles wooooo…**

**(#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#) (#)**

**Goodbye for now, my pretties… *Cue evil witch cackle***

**-Holly**


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